Changes
by JTheGoblinKing
Summary: The creation of an heir. The eerie thing is I wrote this LONG before the creation of Return to Labyrinth and Moppet


Disclaimer: The following is an old Labyrinth fan fiction I wrote for a Labyrinth fan fiction group years. Labyrinth belongs to Henson. Most, if not all, of the Labyrinth fan fiction I am going to post here is at least ten years old, if not older. You will see the original dates they were written placed into these documents. These fan fictions predate the canon of Return to Labyrinth.

To: .

Subject: [labyfic] Changes (Part 1 of 10)

From:

Date: Sun, 30 Jul 2000 23:33:10 EDT

Changes

(Turn and face the stranger)

"I still don't know what I was waiting for

And my time was running wild,

A million dead-end streets,

And every time I thought I'd got it made

It seemed the taste was not so sweet

So I turned myself to face me

But I've never caught a glimpse

Of how the others must see the faker,

I'm much too fast to take that test"- Changes the song by David Bowie

Changes

(Turn and face the stranger.)

1

Many know or at least they believe that they know just what

becomes of the children that are wished away in to The Underground. Their

fates were sealed by that of The Goblin King. They were doomed to be

transformed in to hideous and mindless creatures that would serve their

master. But there are those fortunate few who manage to escape their fate or

the ones that The Goblin King had carelessly ignored. Even Jareth could not

possibly keep a tally on all who had been wished away.

These lost children that had escaped their fate of goblinization

had long ago rallied together and had made their home deep within the

Labyrinth's forest where Jareth's goblins could never find them. They had

not been there for so very long and not many had managed to survive on their

own in the woods. But they had gathered together there and had wisely

selected a leader among them, one young boy whom they saw as a saviour.

It is there deep in the darkest depths of The Underground's forest

that they lived, not in fear, but in contempt of The Goblin King who had

stolen them way from those who had not loved and had neglected them and would

have damned them for their innocence.

They, living in their bitter hatred of being the unwanted,

unloved children called themselves The Undergroundlings.

They did not want to go home. As far as they were concerned The

Underground's forest was their home. It seemed that they never thought twice

of the lives that they had left behind. Of their mothers that hit them, of

their fathers that had forgotten them and of their siblings that were cruel

to them. They never thought of the city streets, or the shelters on Earth.

They found a sanctuary here, beyond the faults and lies, broken promises and

plastic toys. They were safe with one and other. And they felt that they

belonged.

It was as if they belonged to a secret organization that just a

select few could join. And they relied on one and other. And they needed

each other. And they were organized in the sense that they knew how to

follow a leader all though there would always be those who would rebel

against all and any forms of authority.

But their leader was careful and cautious of this notion. He knew

all too well how the adolescent mind worked. He knew well enough how the

fevered adolescent mind worked because in fact he was a child himself and

could easily detach himself from it so that he could see and evaluate on how

to behave to win the favour of others just like himself, to a fault. And so

he was not really a leader to them, as he was just the organizer of them. He

just helped them all stick together. And he was the one who plotted the

rebellion against the ultimate authority figure in that place, Jareth, The

Goblin King.

Beyond the walls of The Labyrinth. Up in the trees, deep in the

forests, under the bushes, in the small caves, and bathing in the icy springs

you could find them. But only if they wanted to be found. Their leader was

a clever lad and he had taught them how to hide and camouflage themselves

well enough in the darkened shadows of on coming Underground nights.

They were a tattered little troop of migrant children but they

were not mindless, and they were not reason-less. They were not scavengers.

They were not savages. They were something like a crude monarch of a society

though they never once called their leader their king. He would never have

liked that. And their young leader knew well enough how to play the game of

false modesty for he knew how ugly and distasteful blatant arrogance could

appear. And how that could be a tragic mistake, to allow himself to act as,

to become his enemy in the pursuit of vanquishing him.

The young, fugitive Undergroundlings gathered early one evening

in the woods. They knew that their leader would be on his way shortly.

Their leader, Marcus, was a peculiar boy, no more then the age of thirteen

and yet they saw him, as some would have viewed a rising messiah. Marcus was

a detached, independent young man. He had an unnatural beauty about him and

an inhuman grace to his movements and actions. The remarkable thing about

The Undergroundlings' leader was that they actually believed that he could be

legitimate competition to The Goblin King. The young, aggressive, and cold

boy somehow or another had picked up on how to use the same magical skills as

The Goblin King. He had learned magick, enough so, that it actually compared

to that of Jareth, The Goblin King. The boy had harnessed the very magick of

The Underground and somehow had claimed it for his own.

No one ever questioned as to how Marcus had managed this. It was

unfathomable that Marcus had ever been just an ordinary little boy, or that

he had a past at all. But Marcus knew who he was and could remember his old

life quite vividly. He knew just where he had come from. And he hated it!

And it was for this anger, this loathing, and past resentment that the young

man felt that The Goblin King must pay.

The boy, in sheer mockery of The Goblin King even fashioned himself

to look like him.

Marcus, being a painfully thin young man with a mischievous grin had

the same long, yellow blond hair as The Goblin King. He even had the same

peculiar eyes. None of the lost Labyrinthian children questioned it. It

made perfect sense to them. If he had the same powers, by some strange good

fortune, as The Goblin King, then he could easily take on the same physical

appearance as The Goblin King. But if this were so then what, in reality,

did Marcus truly look like?

The small crowd (there were no more then thirty of them) were a

rag-tag self-sufficient little troop. Even without his mysterious abilities

Marcus was the eldest of the little troop. These ragged outcast children

knew that they were the unwanted. They had no parents. Their parents, their

guardians or their siblings had not desired them. They relied on each other

as they had vowed they always would. They fashioned themselves more of a

Robin Hood troop of merry men as opposed to some sort of bizarre variation of

Peter Pan's lost boys. They never referred to themselves as children. They

would never admit that they were- though they were, children.

You see- Marcus might have been just a boy, but he had a plan and

an intention for his followers, the nongoblinized children of The

Underground. His intention was not just for the survival of his little troop

but for the domination and final conquest of The Underground!

Marcus wished to initiate an end, a fall of The Goblin King. For

what felt like a very long time the seemingly innocent mind of this

antagonistic little boy had been brooding, plotting his chance. He would

wait until he was sure enough and strong enough, that his powers were not

only equal to that of The Goblin King but stronger even. Marcus was merely

biding his sweet, precious time...

But Marcus would also have something that The Goblin King did not

have. He would have an army following him and not a goblin army either but

an army of angry children whom he would be accountable at having

single-handedly pulled away from Jareth, The Goblin King.

To: .

Subject: [labyfic] Changes (Part 2a of 10)

From:

Date: Sun, 30 Jul 2000 23:37:01 EDT

"Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes,

(Turn and face the stranger)

Ch-ch-Changes,

Don't want to be a richer man,

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes,

(Turn and face the stranger)

Ch-ch-Changes,

Just gonna have to be a different man,

Time may change me

But I can't trace time"- Changes the song, by David Bowie

Changes

(Turn and face the stranger.)

2

Marcus made his appearance subtly as he often did. He never

exploited his still developing magical abilities for mere parlour tricks such

as appearing abruptly and then disappearing again in a burst of glittering

light. The boy was clever and very aware of his own limitations, physically.

His magick was not yet quite perfect. He would never speak his own

physical, mental or magical limitations out loud for fear that the wrong ears

might hear of them.

He had been open and had allowed his followers to gain the

attention of a few goblins. He wanted The Goblin King to know of his

existence. But more importantly he wanted Jareth to be afraid of him. Now

that was the sweetest- the most delicious part of Marcus' existence. If he,

a mere boy, could draw fear out of The Great Goblin King then surely he was

ready.

So far Jareth had tried nothing to stop him or his followers. What

did it matter if a few children that had been wished away had been stolen

away from The Goblin King? Perhaps he was biding his time too. Marcus

reasoned that their thought processes must have been a great deal alike, his

and Jareth's. So he was always on his guard and prepared as if he were about

to face himself in battle.

The rest of the children, his Undergroundlings fell silent as he

stepped in to view from the shadows of a few over grown trees and some over

grown ferns. Though he looked a great deal like Jareth his clothing, his way

of dressing, was extremely casual and fairly bland when placed in comparison

to the garb of The Goblin King.

He wore a draping black, slim leather jacket that hung open overa

black T-shirt. The boy wore tight trousers but not as tight as that of The

Goblin King. (He had some common sense.) He wore slightly healed leather

boots to give the illusion of height. Marcus was extremely small of build

and stature. And he had a seemingly fragile appearance but then again looks

can be very deceiving. He was very thin and stood no more then 5'1. He was

a small boy and his features were very catlike, somewhat feminine. He had

high cheekbones and large eyes. He carried a beauty of a sexless creature.

He was just a boy after all and carried about him a seeming vulnerability, a

fragility, an innocence, all mere illusions.

He wore thin, wire framed sunglasses over his large blue eyes.

Around his neck hung a thin gold chain and from this chain, though it was

hidden under his shirt hung a small cicle pendent made of silver, that looked

something like a triangle with it's sides collapsed inward, with a tiny gold

coin within it's center.

The children stood in silence, or sat, he never demanded that they

stand in his presence, but often enough they did just the same. He placed a

thin, slender hand in the air to gesture for silence. Marcus did not wear

gloves like The Goblin King. He liked the feel of things too much, the

sensation of touch, of intimacy. It gave a reassurance to him that someone

or something were actually real, physical, tangible in a world of illusions

and dreams.

His fingernails were painted black.

"Another child has been wished away!" He said with a severely

stern tone, perhaps too serious for a boy of his age. His voice was sharp

and a bit naisely in fact. "She's a little girl, no more then six years old.

I saw them take her this morning. Do I have any volunteers to fetch her or

must I go at it alone?" His icy cold, piercing eyes swept over the small

crowd of Undergroundlings as he removed his dark glasses and placed them in

to his pocket.

His intention was to intimidate and make his followers feel ashamed

at their unwillingness to stand up against The Goblin King. His intentions

were most successful.

Some of the smaller children just stared at him wide-eyed and

embraced one and other. Others were silent; their mouths hanging open as

they stared up at him from their logs that they used as benches, and the

large rocks.

Marcus' nose crinkled just slightly in disgust. He sneered just

slightly as he placed his hands to his hips. "Cowards! Cowards, that's what

you are. The whole lot of you! Cowards! Are you honestly afraid of

'HIM'?!?" He shook his head and sighed like a disappointed parent.

"Honestly, after all I've taught you=E2=80=A6"

Marcus legitimately looked disappointed but he never seemed to

really be feeling anything. Looks could be deceiving. And with Marcus this

was no exception. And nothing, especially about Marcus, could be ever taken

for granted. That was always a tragic mistake. His expression could be cold

and impassive and he'd be wallowing in deep sorrow or melancholy. He could

throw a seeming temper tantrum desperately and five minutes later laugh as if

it had been nothing of great importance at all. Marcus was an exceptional

actor but he never showed his true emotions. Any emotions that he did

express were often negative, or false. If he publicly displayed an emotion

of any sort it was usually an act. But he was such an exceptionally good

actor that no one questioned it. And it seemed that he was legitimately

disappointed. He was not. He was simply preying on the guilt and loyalty of

his followers as many good leaders, he had noticed, had done before.

It was true that Marcus was a calculating and devious young man

but he was also very lonely, and very self-contained. He had his followers

but they all looked up to him. Who had he to turn to?

No one. And as far as he was concerned he never had.

To: .

Subject: [labyfic] Changes (Part 2b of 10)

From:

Date: Sun, 30 Jul 2000 23:37:42 EDT

Power and control seemed to be what most men desire. Most people long

to be popular, respected, followed. They yearn to stand out in the crowds

and to seem to rise above all else. Well, now what most men seem to want and

what a man needs is not always the same thing and the same could be said for

a young boy as well.

What is fame anyway or popularity for that matter? Can one person really

claim that he can rise above all others, to be worshiped, feared and loved

like some sort of holy deity? Can anyone really claim superiourity above

another? And power, control, leadership in that world would mean trying to

claim popularity, status above most others. Can anyone really be so arrogant

to try and hold God-like status above all others?

Fame, is it really so grand to stand and watch a world from a far,

up on high, on the opposite end of a rose painted glass wall?

To crave the respect and admiration of a following and to have the respect

and admiration of a following show two very different aspects of the ideal.

The reality of this strange grand thing is the reality that is of

social isolation and ostracism. It is truly lonely at the top. And it is

very hard to be the outsider, the one to be isolated and pulled out and

marked when trying to be as simply others are, which is impossible when you

are truly something extraordinary and Marcus truly was something

extraordinary.

That sort of thing can alienate a person, pull you away from the

rest of your world, segregate and lock you away from others. It can be a

walking death sentence for those who crave individual contact with others.

Popularity, fame and status can make someone it's hostage. As easily as

someone could think to claim it, it can claim them and hold them as it's

prisoner. And then that person would be at it's mercy until and if it

releases them.

And with this status you would be at the mercy of other's dreams and

ideals of what you should be. This would cause you to forsake your own dreams

and ideals that you had set for yourself to appease the others that worship

you. It is the ultimate sacrifice and the ultimate prize all in one. The

dreams of the famous are forsaken for the dreams conceived by followers of

the famous. One should never have to forsake his dreams for anyone but

himself, or so was Marcus' belief.

But he did not hate his followers. He loved them and perhaps

this was the sort of popularity that he thought to be acceptable for it was

the harsh extreme of the life he had been born in to and was trying so very

desperately to deny=E2=80=A6

Fame and popularity can make someone feel as empty inside as any

physical hunger. It might seem to grant you all that life has to offer as

it's prize but these ephemeral trinkets are fleeting and bring no peace to a

restless soul. And lust and material gain is no real replacement for any

real friendship=E2=80=A6 or love.

It might seem that fame can bring you or should bring you closer

to others or at least that is the mundane notion of the majority in society.

These are the foolish and unenlightened masses. To draw in a crowd who would

worship you is not the same as to draw one individual who would love and see

you as their equal.

Truthfully in fact fame detaches you. It locks you away from

others, separates, divides, and alienates you from all the individual beings

that can offer you the things of real value in life. It also can corrupt your

very soul. Being famous is a lot like holding great and influential power and

if power is not taken responsibly it can and will corrupt you.

With great power, as what Marcus possessed, there also comes an

even greater responsibility and power would corrupt the irresponsible. God

perhaps was not corrupt merely for the fact that such a being as a God would

be responsible. But these were strange thoughts, not fit for the mind of a

thirteen-year-old boy but an older man reflecting on the life he might have

lived. Maybe Marcus knew a little too much for someone of his age. If one

were to stare in to the strange, tired eyes of this boy, which wee not really

icy and cold at all, (that was an illusion too) they might see a weariness of

someone who had experienced too much and understood too much all too fast.

A famous man can claim to have everything that he might possibly

want but he would not have in fact everything that he needs. The sense of

being close to others when surrounded by followers is merely an illusion.

Marcus supposed this kind of alienation can be described simply as being like

an animal doing tricks in a cage at a zoo. And he simply would not have that!

One, as the celebrity is the animal doing tricks, locked in a cage

and that person is locked away from the spectators that fear and or envy him

though he cannot really understand why this is so.

And those who do not love and worship you for the mere reason

that they can are envious, hateful and angry. They would resent everything

that you would seem to embody and stand for to them. And there is nothing

that you can do to ever try and win their approval. And because they would

dare to put your image up on high if you would ever try to speak to them on

an individual level they might grow hateful. They would resent you and long

for what you seem to have and they do not have where as sometimes it is

actually reversed. They would be seeing a condescension in your tones when

you try and speak with them. You would not acknowledge this for you never saw

yourself as being superiour where as they might think that is how you see

yourself for that is how foolish and na=C3=AFve others would see you.

While standing in the spotlight not just all of your lovely

attributes are noticeable but also every last one of your flaws, things such

as Marcus were determined to hide forever as best as he could.

Ah, but this was the way of most any world, Earth and The

Underground and so it had always been and always shall be this way. And if

it is lonely at the top and nature moves all in an endless loop then does not

that mean that at the peak of fame and fortune, the highest of heights you

are actually lower then where you had begun?

Unlike Marcus' na=C3=AFve followers, he did not carry with his that

foolish hopeful notion of being restored to some lost loved one that had

wished him away. He did not pretend to miss anyone. He was too angry to

love and too afraid to trust to dare place anyone within his mind's eye above

himself. He believed in himself and in nothing and no one else above that.

Marcus had reasoned that if he were to place someone on to a

pedestal it could only fail in time. No one was perfect and everyone made

mistakes, too many dreadful mistakes, and therefore were not worthy of his

concern. Why should he believe in anyone other then himself? No one had

seen a need to care for him before? In all sense of the word Marcus truly

was a lost boy.

One of the braver of the children, a ten-year-old boy, with

brown hair, who only knew his name to be Jeff stood up. He could not recall

his last name. He had been wished away so very long ago. The boy was chubby,

a plump boy with a round face and the personality of a very typical follower

for the most part. He was the sort of boy who made his happiness only what

others would enjoy. He loved to belong and would do most anything just so

that he would belong. He wanted to fit in. He felt secure in the unity and

did not concern himself at all with fear of the consequence of losing

himself. He stammered. "It's=E2=80=A6 It's not that we're af-afraid of him,

Marcus." Jeff fumbled with his hands and averted his eyes from Marcus as he

spoke. Most of the children thought that it was wise to avoid eye contract

from Marcus. It was like staring in to the eyes of a fierce animal that they

did not wish to challenge. If they were to look in to his eyes they would

immediately be intimidated by him. "It's just that=E2=80=A6 Well, you see... He

knows about you now. He knows what you've been doing. He could be waiting

for you."

A young girl named Sally stood up. Her dress was a tattered

thing. Her dress was practically rags. It looked as if she had stolen it

years ago off of a Goblin's laundry line. And she had done just that, stolen

it off from a goblin laundry line, that is. Her hands were clasped as if she

would plead with Marcus, her saviour, not to go. "He'll kill you, Marcus.

You mustn't attempt this again! You've been very lucky so far=E2=80=A6 with all of

us but he will kill you!"

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Kill me?"

He began to laugh. He turned his back to the crowd and tilted

his head back and laughed. His laughter made the crowd uneasy. Marcus hada

volatile and easily upset personality. He was not the sort of person you

would want to cross if he were in a bad moon, especially with the powers that

he possessed.

Marcus composed himself and turned back to his little camp of

followers. "He can't kill me." He said with a shake of his head, something

angry and knowing burned deep inside of him, something that mustn't ever be

spoken out loud.

"I'll go." Marcus said finally. He then pointed a finger to the

crowd. "But I want you three to go with me!" Marcus pointed towards three

boys, each about the age of eleven or twelve years old. They were Jason,

Alex, and Billy and as far as Marcus was concerned they were his best

warriors.

The boys did not question the word of their great, fearless leader.

They feared Marcus perhaps as much as they feared The Goblin King. Only

Marcus most assuredly was the lesser of the two evils. Marcus would put an

end to The Goblin Empire once and for all and then they would claim The

Underground for their own! They may only have been children but they were

the only humans of the Underground and that made them the rightful

Undergroundlings. And Marcus would be their saviour to lead them in to a new

age!

To: .

Subject: [labyfic] Changes (Part 3 of 10)

From:

Date: Sun, 30 Jul 2000 23:38:26 EDT

"I watch the ripples change their size

But never leave the stream

Of warm impermanence and

So the days float through my eyes

But still the days seem the same"- Changes, the song, by David Bowie

Changes

(Turn and face the stranger.)

3

Jareth sat on his throne. His fingers were to his temples. His

legs were carelessly draped over the side of the throne and he leaned back on

his side.

The little girl sat in the little play pit in the center of the

throne room.

Despite the loud banter of his goblin minion that surrounded him

he could still hear her shrill wails, a sharp din in the background, cutting

through his head like a sharp knife piercing through his brain.

There were just four hours and eleven minutes for the little girl's

older sister to solve his Labyrinth. She would never make it in time.

But the boredom of the constant waiting was getting the better of

Jareth. It seemed that he was always waiting for something and contrary to

the way it seemed, waiting was not one of Jareth's favourite games. He was

quite impatient at times and this was one of those times.

The little girl had curly brown hair and large eyes. And she

would have been a very pretty little girl had she not been crying so.

The little girl's hands were clenched in to small fists. She was

setting off a din that would cause her older sister to groan in despair. The

child's eyes were shut as if she could somehow deny that she was there in the

throne room of The Goblin King, awaiting a terrible fate.

In that place, other then Jareth, no one took much notice of the

frightened little girl and her wailing. Horned, or hairy, or helmeted

goblins racketed around that place, across the filthy floor, over the steps

to the throne, up on the ledges of the room. Some were chasing after

chickens or a black pig in a helmet. Some squabbled over a tidbit while some

peered in to any and all vessels, in the hope of finding something to eat.

Some of the goblins just sat around, gnawing on bones. Others stared dumbly

at the rest through, large, yellow, crazed eyes.

The place was littered with half finished platefuls of food and

rotting bits and pieces of meat and vegetable matter. A small pterodactyl

like goblin flapped it's wings, taking it's chances, dodging spit balls that

flew at it from across the room.

The curved crown, mounted above the throne decorated with rams horns had been

appropriated by a vulture to use as it's nest. Or perhaps Jareth had

installed the vulture there for his own idle amusement.

Jareth most definitely needed something to keep himself amused there

in that place. The goblins were, frankly, a bore. They were so stupid that

they would never be able to find their own way through The Labyrinth. They

were without wisdom or wit. In the old days, when many babies had been

offered to him, Jareth had been more tolerant. He had believed that one-day

he would find the perfect child to be his heir, to be trained for a time to

be his companion and come the right time take his throne and free him of his

burden. He had hoped to find the one who's young blood would refresh his

own. He had hoped that he would find one child to raise as his own. As

calls upon him to steal children became rarer and rarer so Jareth sank deeper

in to dejection.

Lounging in his draped throne, which was in the form of an

interrupted circle, Jareth looked at the bawling figure of the crying little

girl.

Everything was all becoming so redundant. Two-headed sheep,

curtailed milk, banging pans, snatched nightclothes, barren apple trees,

moldy bread- Jareth had seen all the old goblin tricks, all too often. But

this lot, rooting and pratfalling, all day still found such tired, old

cliches a perfect riot every time. Pitiful, they were.

Jareth yawned and looked wearily around the room. The walls had

been decorated with skulls and bats. Dear God, he thought. Skulls and bats

yet. How jejune could you get?

Jareth had been sitting casually in his throne room in his usual

position as the king of his realm. His left leg was draped over the arm of

the chair. His right leg was bent and his foot rested with the rest of him

on the large seat cushion as he leaned back on his side. Had not he done

this very same thing just the other day? =E2=80=A6All of that day?

Jareth began to rub his sinuses just above his nose with his left

hand's index and middle fingers.

The drab and intolerably dingy, yellowish brown walls of the

throne room were stained in every form of filth imaginable. He believe that

those walls might have been white at one time or another. How so very

disgusting. It smelled like a filthy, unkempt pony stable in there. Why did

his minions always insist upon brining random barnyard animals in to the

castle? Dear God, was that chicken dung in the corner there? Jareth was

more then a little apprehensive to checking. It sure as Hell smelled like

fresh dung. Jareth would have to have the goblins attempt to clean that up

for themselves later. Even with his magical powers Jareth did not wish to

touch that filth. Janitorial or custodial work was not a dignified job fora

king of any social or political status, of course a man of any station, born

of low class or high, NO ONE should have to deal with... well, THAT at all,

he reasoned.

Jareth was so very unhappy.

Jareth shut my eyes and breathed through his mouth to try and

deny the barnyard like, flatulent, rancid, reeking, stench of his own throne

room.

With his eyes shut he tried to take in a moment's release. Jareth

fancied for a moment, using his favourite personal fantasy, that he was a

fairly typical mortal man standing on Earth. He imagined that he was in an

American New York City Greenwich Village studio apartment. He was, in this

vision, surrounded not by moronic goblins but by colourful, opened jars,

bottles and cans of fresh paints, fine tipped pens, coloured markers and

other various art supplies. For a moment Jareth merely pretended that he was

not the frustrated master of an alternate reality that was doomed to ruin but

simply a human artist who had dreamed up that nightmarish Hellhole. And being

that simple, human artist in the modern human world he would soon awaken to

find his latest piece, a painting of that very Labyrinth and his castle in

the center of it on sale at an auction in New York City. Now that is a place

where an eccentric man like himself in mortal form would be actually=E2=80=A6

welcomed.

Jareth sighed, loving that particular fantasy.

Well, Jareth finally decided right then and there to accept the

futile, hopelessness of his own position. He fate had been sealed long

before he ever could have a say in the matter. He would keep his secret

desires to himself. No one must ever know of his own secret yearnings. Not

a soul should ever know that the one who can offer mortals their dreams had

dreams of his very own that must forever remain unfulfilled and unknown by

any.

For a long moment Jareth held the image of the New York City

apartment in his head. He held tight to it, refusing to let go of it for the

sake of his own world.

He sighed knowing that this would never really be. Do to

circumstances beyond his control he would be master of that kingdom for all

of eternity or until Jareth would find that he somehow had an heir and that

heir would reach adulthood, then and only then he would be able to slip off

and never return. And Jareth knew what he would do then if this were

accomplished. He had been dreaming of it for many years. He would hide

among mortals on Earth. He would try to forget his life all together once

and for all. Ah, what a sweet and truly glorious dream that it was too. It

was a true, real shame that it would have to eventually come to an end. Even

Jareth could not make every dream come true. No one has ever offered Jareth

his own dreams and yet he could give so many theirs. ...A part of the curse

that was his existence, he supposed. He wondered what he had done so wrong

in his last life that he was in penance like that. Who exactly had he killed

back then?

Jareth very nearly believed that an escape from his own position in

his life was possible but then something brought him back to his own reality.

Something crashed in the hall. No doubt, a goblin had smashed yet another,

valuable antique. Oh, that was more then a little bit unfair. Life had

never been very fair to him. Why was he being forced from his dreams so

abruptly? Would he be there forever and ever and ever? Ah, well, he mused,

it's only forever, it's not long at all=E2=80=A6

Jareth yawned and then he stretched his arms over his head. He

was very bored. He looked around and took in a deep breath. He leaned on

his side and put his left hand under his head to support his chin as his

elbow rested on the arm of the throne.

Jareth looked hopefully at the clock. It was three minutes after

nine. Just three hours and fifty seven minutes remaining. The girl in The

Labyrinth had barely made it past the first passage. She would never make

it.

He would have to do something to pass the time but what?

To: .

Subject: [labyfic] Changes (Part 4 of 10)

From:

Date: Sun, 30 Jul 2000 23:39:10 EDT

"And these children that you spit on

As they try to change their worlds

Are immune to your consultations,

They're quite aware of what they're going through"- Changes, the song, by

David Bowie

Changes

(Turn and face the stranger.)

4

Like some terribly morbid mockery of Peter Pan, Marcus perched

himself just under the window of the castle throne room on a narrow, stone

ledge. He was not afraid of heights. As I matter of fact the further away

he was from the ground, the more comfortable Marcus was. A tree, of equal

level to him, with intertwining, gnarled branches was only a few meters away

from him. In the tree branches sat Marcus' three accomplices, Jason, Alex

and Billy. And these boys carried over their arms long, thick ropes, at the

end of which there were fairly large iron hooks that they had stolen out of

The Goblin City.

The great walls of the Labyrinth spread out for several, kilometers

around. The magick that hummed in the very air itself of The Underground had

a focus. It was channeled in to The Labyrinth. Marcus was one of the few

who could hear and maybe even control that magick that hummed in the air like

some sort of electricity, a power. The Labyrinth is where all of his and

Jareth's power truly derived from. And even he did not know all of it's

secrets, and perhaps without a proper teacher, as Marcus had been forced to

rely solely on himself as an educator, he might never know all of the secrets

of The Labyrinth. The Labyrinth was extremely complicated. The Labyrinth was

the most complicated- the most elaborate system of working mechanics to act

as a security system that had ever been constructed before. It was very near

to impossible that any creature, human or other could ever find it's way

through the great contraption.

It was the largest, most complicated maze that had ever been

constructed. It's passages ran both under and above the ground. There were

several different complicated and continuously functioning parts. In all

there were over thirteen different interconnected puzzles, traps and mazes

that made up the great Labyrinth.

From up high on Marcus' perch he could see it nearly to it's

entirely. It seemed to spread out, on and on forever and ever. It was truly

wondrous. The power, the force of magick that existed within it was

monumental. The alchemy involved in it's very being, the science combined

with magick was astonishing. And at times it must have even boggled Jareth's

mind. No magician and no rocket-scientist alone could possibly un-riddle the

great Labyrinth.

The hood that draped from Marcus' jacket he now placed over his

head. The other boys did not know why Marcus bothered to do this. Perhaps

Marcus in actuality did not like his physical similarities to The Goblin

King. Perhaps he felt secure, as if he were a bandit wearing a mask. What

ever the case might have been, Marcus wore the hood over his head because

clearly he did not wish for his face to be seen.

Marcus, ever the brave one, peaked in to the open window and

looked straight at The Goblin King who was not looking up from his

contemplation's and so did not, as the goblins never, take notice of Marcus'

observations.

Coldly Marcus stared at Jareth for a very long moment but there

may have been for a moment, something else in his eyes...

Marcus knew that Jareth was an extremely powerful and a magical

being with a very human outward appearance and he respected that. That was

just about all he respected, power. And he knew what Jareth's powers were

too. Of course Jareth could change his form in to that of a common barn owl

whenever he would please. Marcus had only recently learned, unbeknownst to

his Undergroundlings, that he could do that as well. Jareth, just like

Marcus, had gorgeous, long, yellow blond hair that hangs lightly spiked and

feathered on his head. Jareth wore eccentric garments of an odd combination

of eighteenth century Earthly fashion and something of the taste of an

Earthly Glam-rock musician's wardrobe. Jareth loved it and Marcus sort of

liked it too but he had his own tastes and he more preferred a Gothic fashion

to Glam, just a slightly darker variation of wardrobe and accessories.

Fashion was an artistic expression for them both. It was their personal

taste and no one dared to ever speak up against it, to either of them,

another trait that Marcus shared with The Goblin King.

Jareth wore tight black trousers. He wore a silk white shirt with

an opened 'V' neck lined collar. On his neck he wore on a chain; hanging

from his neck on this chain he wore his golden cicle pendent with the silver

coin within it's center. He wore leather boots and leather gloves over his

slender hands.

Jareth knew that he was a truly a handsome creature. He would not

call this knowledge of his arrogance but simple, honest truth. Jareth looked

to be about the human age of about thirty-eight, maybe thirty-nine years old.

He was fairly tall and thin with a feline like grace about him, or so others

had stated. And this gracefulness was another shared attribute between

Marcus and Jareth. Jareth had peculiar yet very alluring, slightly

mismatched eyes. His eyes were blue, but strangely mismatched in that his

left pupil was just a bit enlarged.

Marcus shook his head. For a moment it appeared that he would not

go through with it. He looked almost ill for a moment and had to reposition

himself to keep from losing his balance on that narrow, little ledge that he

was perched upon. He made a slight waving gesture with his hand towards the

boys waiting in the tree. That was the signal that it was time for the show,

the ultimate spectacle.

Jareth turned abruptly when he heard the noise. His hearing was as

acute as that of an owl and he would have heard it sooner if not for the din

of the crying child and the continual banter of his goblin minion.

The sound of the hooks suddenly scraping in to the above roof was not

only startling but also irritating. Swinging from the ropes like a couple of

swashbuckling revolutionaries the three boys rushed in.

Jareth stood up and quickly formed a crystal in his hand, intent to

use it to weave a spell to restrain the boys.

He threw it in the direction of Billy who was helping Alex and Jason

to fend off the goblins. The boy dodged the crystal to watch it shatter in

to the wall as if it were merely a glass trinket.

As the boys fought the goblins, luring Jareth's attention away

from the crying child, Marcus leapt in to the room soundlessly, like a cat.

He landed on one knee. His eyes swept over the room quickly. And with his

incredible agility he ran for the little girl.

The girl was small, and about half of Marcus' size so she was

not difficult to carry. The girl stopped crying once Marcus had her in his

arms. It was as if she knew already that she were being rescued.

Marcus stepped over to the window through the chaos. He stood to

the far right of the window. "Retract now!" He called to the other boys.

"Come on! Move!"

He stood and waited for the boys to pass him. As Jason passed

him he handed him the little girl. Marcus, as usual would lead the goblins

in the wrong direction in the chase as Jason would bring the girl to the

forest. And Billy and Alex would cause a little trouble in The Goblin City

to try and lure the attention of The Goblin King away from Marcus or Jason

and the stolen little girl. They would throw The Underground in to a

temporary pandemonium and from there retreat back to the camp to initiate the

new member in to The Undergroundling ranks.

Jason was just barely out the window and climbing down the

tree, a difficult task with the little girl in his arms. Billy and Alex were

already racing towards The Goblin City.

Now it was Marcus' turn to climb out of the window.

Jareth had caught notice of the fleeing boy. "Oh, no you don't!"

Jareth said. Jareth had rushed to the window and reached out, catching the

fabric of the back of Marcus' hood. As the hood fell back Marcus' blond

hair fell over his shoulders. Marcus turned to face The Goblin King. For a

split moment Marcus looked as startled as Jareth, perhaps even a little

afraid but this was soon replaced by a slight smirk.

Jareth stumbled back a step as if he had just be struck hard

across the face. His eyes were wide. This was not possible. This was

simply not possible! Jareth blinked his eyes. "Marcus?!"

Marcus mock bowed. He then stood erect. His back arched for a

moment. He then flipped backward and spread his arms out like wings as he

allowed himself to fall backward as if in to a pool of water, right out the

window.

"No!" Jareth cried. His heart skipped a beat as he reached

out, leaning out the window to grab at the falling boy but his hand clutched

the air. The boy was gone. There were a few falling, small fledgling owl

feathers. And in the near distance Jareth could faintly hear the sound of

flapping, of a young fledgling owl's wings. Gripping the window ledge as if

he, himself might fall out Jareth narrowed his eyes and tried to spot out

where the small owl could have flown. But it was too late. Even if Jareth

were to take on the form of a barn owl, himself, he would never be able to

keep up pace with the fleeing fledgling even if he had caught a glimpse of

where the boy had flown off too.

But the little girl no longer was Jareth's primary concern. He had

heard the rumours and now he was certain that they were true. And the boy

lived! And now it gnawed at Jareth's mind. Marcus had to be stopped. And

he had to be made to face the truth.

All concern of the little girl and her older sister within The

Labyrinth no longer was the concern of The Goblin King.

Jareth turned and called to his goblin guards who were staring at

him blankly, which was not at all a surprise. When weren't they staring at

him blankly? "I want an all out search for that boy! If you can find him-

or where he might be hiding I want to be informed immediately! If you can-

bring him to me BUT DON'T HURT HIM! Do you understand me?"

The goblins nodded dumbly and then rushed from the room. They ran

in to one and other once before even making it to the door, each trying to

run in the opposite direction. But finally they seemed to figure out how to

simply exit the room.

Jareth sighed, disgustedly and sat down on to his throne, rubbing

at his temples.

To: .

Subject: [labyfic] Changes (Part 5 of 10)

From:

Date: Sun, 30 Jul 2000 23:40:31 EDT

"Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes,

(Turn and face the stranger)

Ch-ch-Changes,

Don't tell them to grow up and out of it,

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes,

(Turn and face the stranger)

Ch-ch-Changes" - Changes, the song, by David Bowie

Changes

(Turn and face the stranger.)

5

The tiny owl soared over The Goblin City. He had made his

escape, clumsy though it was. Fearfully he turned his head to look behind

him. His large owl eyes saw no pursuer but he had to hurry. Everything had

gone according to plan up until that fateful moment when The Goblin King had

pulled back his hood. He had not anticipated on that. He had not wished to

be physically revealed to Jareth until he was ready. Marcus had been forced

to reveal his cards. And that meant that the game was almost over.

In the form of the small fledgling owl Marcus flew over The

Goblin City.

The small buildings of The Goblin City below him seemed to reach

up, unable to touch the realm that he had stolen as his own while in that

form.

He felt the wind rushing under his soft owl belly. The wind

stirred his feathers though never disturbed them from their setting in his

little, light owl self.

Marcus could feel the late autumn chill in the air. He was not

sure of the date or even what month it was but it was near the time of his

birthday, or at least what he believed to be his birthday.

The air was crisp and pure, clean and frosty.

And this meant that winter was coming.

Marcus loved the winter. It was his favourite season. It

seemed a reminder to him that there can be a coldness to beauty. That death

can be beautiful and the must beautiful things often are the things frozen

and hard to touch for their icy burn. He loved the poetry of the winter

season. He loved how the season of darkness and death must come so that

there could be rebirth. And it also reminded him of the passing of time, how

nothing ever really died but only changed. For there always came the

rebirth. Just as after a dark night there would always come the dawn. The

winter was change. It meant change to him. And there was one thing that

Marcus always welcomed. It was change. And that's precisely what he

intended to do in The Underground, to force a great change. He wanted to

invoke such changes that The Goblin King could not stop. If someone found

himself in a bad situation he could always hope for a change.

Marcus had learned early on that change was not always a bad

thing. There were good and bad change, change for the better, change for the

future, change in one self. If one did not bend to change, he reasoned,

then it could very well break you. With change there always came the choice

to bend or break. And Marcus was not one to allow time to be his master. He

would never allow himself to be broken. He might have been just a boy but he

was very much so aware of the world around him and of the rules of life

though he had not lived for so very long.

Marcus flew gracefully, flying as the little owl was instinct

for him. Marcus just loved the feeling of the cool, clean, icy breeze under

him.

And Marcus ached with a secret, a secret that he could never

share, though it should have been obvious, with his followers. And it was

about his past, a terrible dark thing that he never wanted to face again and

in Jareth seeing his face he feared that he would have to face it again very

soon. The past was a peculiar thing. He could either run from it or he

could learn from it. And Marcus never took lessons easily unless he wanted

to learn. But more so he hated the idea of running. He had been running for

so very long. He was just so very tired of running. And there were times

when he just wanted to surrender, to give in, but that was simply not in his

nature. And he would not give in, no matter how tired and weary he would

become. The past, he believed, or at least he wanted to believe, was gone.

He had to look for the future. If he lived in that dreaded past the he would

not have today or tomorrow, just yesterday- a dead thing.

And he hoped that time would set him free from his past.

Marcus flew higher and higher, trying to let go of everything but

the universe spreading out before him as the air thinned around him.

He was at least for the moment free. He could forget it all. He

flew higher then the mountains, reaching for the moon and the stars, beyond

the heavy clouds. He flew where the wind was strong and the air was weak, if

that can be described somehow.

He looked down once more at The Goblin City below him; still able

to see and hear it perfectly with the owl's heightened senses.

He loved the stirring of the brown, dead leaves that crunched under

the goblins' feet.

And then their came a despair. Marcus had never felt so lonely in

his life, his followers could never understand him really though he believed

that he understood them perfectly.

Two very idiotic male goblins looked up to the sky and they saw the

most unusual thing. It was a tiny owl, a baby owl, perhaps, just barely

grown in it's feathers, and they could tell that it was not their master.

"Look up there!" Said one of the two goblins. "It's a rat with wings!"

"Cor!" Said the other goblin that grabbed up a large stone and

chucked it towards the small owl with malicious glee.

The uglier goblin, the one that had pointed out the owl to his

companion scooped up some loose stones in to his claw like hand. He began to

toss them at the little owl, intent to see it fall to the ground and more

then likely die with a hard, splattering impact. Knock it right out of

Heaven! That was their intention all right.

Marcus did not see the stones flying towards him, or the particular

one that hit him hard in the wing.

The suddenly sharp jolt of pain was incredible as his wing was

horribly sprung back, ill shaped and obviously broken from the hard blow.

He fell...

Marcus was tumbling from the sky like Icarus with his melted wax

wings after souring too close to the noon day sun. He was falling, falling

fast. Marcus felt himself plummeting. He flapped his wings rapidly, trying

to gain height, his altitude decreasing with every split moment.

It was not working. It felt as if he were being pulled down to the

ground. It was as if a heavy weight had swallowed his fragile, vulnerable

owl form.

Marcus was falling fast. That had never happened before. Never

once had that ever happened to him before. He had not expected that at all.

But this was a sudden change and who knew what it might lead in to? And

Change was rarely an expected thing. Marcus had never, ever fallen from

mid-flight.

Marcus felt what seemed like an extremely heavy weight and he

tumbled from the sky.

Marcus tried very hard to struggle against it but he was

falling and falling fast, he was plummeting towards the ground.

He tried once to desperately flap his wings despite the

incredible pain of the left wing, which was broken. As he did this a sharp

jolt of pain, like a coursing flash of black lightning passed through his

entire being. If an owl could scream he would have screamed. He tumbled

hard and fast from the sky, at an angle towards a passage in The Labyrinth.

He landed hard to the ground. It came with a sickening thud. The

tiny, light bones of the owl felt as if they were crushed. He cried out in

pain but it was a silent wail. It was but a faint screech from the bowels of

the helpless, broken owl. He saw a flash of white light that turned red

against his momentarily blinded eyes, the physical manifestation of his shock

and pain. He was paralyzed. He was slipping, falling in to himself. Waves

of strange, unnatural darkness swept in all around him. He felt as if he

were floating in weightlessness, in water. He was drowning in himself. He

was dizzy. His tiny owl lungs were unable to breathe. His chest felt as if

it had been crushed on impact. He felt the ribs piercing, crushed in to the

diaphragm as the blood pooled around him. He dared not move at all. He

would heal soon enough if he could just stay clear headed enough to focus his

magick right.

He blinked his owl eyes, trying to see. A shadow, the silhouette

of a young woman stood over him. He heard her voice say "Oh, my God!" at the

sight of the tiny crushed bird, that he was.

A heavy blackness had swept over him. He had felt incredibly

dizzy. He was over whelmed. The world around him was spinning. He could

feel himself swimming in black weightlessness.

With the last coherent thought Marcus transformed himself, healing

himself in to his true form, his true self, as the little boy, Marcus.

Still aching, in pain from the crash Marcus lay there by the feet of

a fifteen-year-old girl, gasping for breath. What the Hell had happened to

him? What hit him? Was that a rock?

Marcus' head was bleeding. He was dazed. He could not tell

precisely what had happened to him.

As Marcus he was not as light or as vulnerable as he was in his owl

form. His magick, knowing his true form better, healed him quickly. He had a

head wound that took a moment longer then the rest to heal.

He staggered to his feet. His whole body was still quite sore. He

was not in shock. He had never once in his life (not to his knowledge) had

gone in to a state of shock. He had been shocked but he was not IN shock.

In truth he was frightened. He was a bit shaken up and the thought of what

had happened as the sight of it, himself falling like Icarus to Earth would

fill him with a fear that he had never known. It would take Marcus a while

to regain his confidence to take flight as the little barn owl and even then

he thought that he would be more cautious for it all and not fly so high as

he was used to.

He was dizzy as he leaned against the brick Labyrinth wall. The

wound on his head had already healed. And his wounded wing (now his arm) no

longer hurt. It was completely healed. Marcus looked to the young girl who

stood by him, she looked to be about fourteen or fifteen years old.

To: .

Subject: [labyfic] Changes (Part 6a of 10)

From:

Date: Sun, 30 Jul 2000 23:43:33 EDT

"Where's your shame?

You've left us up to our necks in it,

Time may change me

But you can't trace time" - Changes, the song, by David Bowie

Changes

(Turn and face the stranger.)

6

Her skin was smooth and dark. And her eyes were large and chocolate

coloured. Her hair was curly and brown. It hung loose and thick over her

shoulders. She wore a figuring forming, floral patterned dress and light

canvas shoes. She was a pretty young girl.

And something remarkable, she was not intimidated by Marcus or his

magick. She was looking right at him, at him, and in to his eyes. She was

not afraid of him!

She was very womanish in form though her face still bore the

innocence of childhood. There was that beautiful spark of creativity and

imagination in her eyes, something that Marcus had always loved.

For a moment she and Marcus had eye contact, something that Marcus

rarely had with anyone without trying to or having had intimidated someone.

The girl took a step back. She was startled but not really

frightened. She did not know who to react to this strange boy that she had

watched fall from the sky in the form of a small owl and now stood before her

as a boy.

But concern took her before fear could and she took a cautious

step forward. She reached out for the boy's face. He was a very beautiful

young boy. "Are you=E2=80=A6 are you all right?' She asked. There was something

maternal, nurturing in her tone, almost motherly. Marcus had never known

what it must be like to have a mother.

Marcus blinked his eyes at the girl. She was beautiful young

girl. And she looked like she could make a good Undergroundling, perhaps

even a=E2=80=A6 personal companion.

Maybe somehow she would understand everything=E2=80=A6

She cocked her head to the side. She had seen The Goblin King

before. He was the reason why she was trapped there in The Labyrinth. She

had to save her sister.

"Who are you?" She asked. "you look so much like-"

Marcus interrupted her. "It's merely a coincidence I assure

you." He reached down and dusted off his trousers. "My name is Marcus, and

you are?"

She smiled slightly at him. She already surmised that he was

not a human boy but he was still just a boy. And there was something

terribly sad to his eyes, something tragic, something that the boy did not

want her to see but the more he hid it from her the more she wanted to see it

and understand. And The Goblin King, even in some elaborate disguise to

deter her would not have appeared, even in an act, so clumsily like this.

She wondered if he could be of help to her or of use to her some how.

Perhaps the peculiar young boy=E2=80=A6 or changeling or whatever he was, could help

her find her way through The Labyrinth before her time was up to save her

sister. "My name is Emily." She said. "Would you know how to get to the

castle from here? I have to save Becky!"

Marcus' eyes lit up. Instead of just claiming one for his cause

he had two new recruits to take as Undergroundlings. Perhaps the painful

fall had been worth it. "Becky is your sister, I take it."

She nodded. "Yes. I didn't mean to wish her away. It was an

accident! And now he's going to turn her in to a goblin if I don't make it

there in time! Oh, this is all my fault=E2=80=A6" She began to wring her hands.

"You needn't worry over that now." Marcus said. "I have saved

her."

"What? What do you mean- you've saved her?" She was not sure

if she could trust him. How could he have saved her sister from The Goblin

King?

"I've just come from the castle. They don't always get turned

in to goblins. Sometimes we try to get them away from Jareth before it's too

late. Your sister is safe. If you come with me I can take you to her."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "How do I know this isn't some

sort of trick?"

"Have you any other choice? You're obviously lost. Would you

rather die here or come with me? You have my word that I know where your

sister is and that I shall take you to her and that she is unharmed."

Marcus held out his hand to her. "Trust me. Hmm?"

She looked at him for a long moment before taking his hand.

"Please, trust me."

Finally she took his hand.

Down the brick, twisting and turning passages of The Labyrinth

Marcus lead her. He knew his way to his little troop from most anywhere in

The Labyrinth.

For nearly an hour they walked. They turned down so many

passages, taking precise steps down corridors before turning left or right or

staying close to a certain wall to avoid a trap door here, or a booby trap

trigger there. They came across no goblins along their way.

They soon came to the forest clearing. Several Undergroundling

children stood by waiting for Marcus. They had not expected that he would

bring anyone with him.

The new little girl had been sitting on a log beside Jason who had

been questioning her about her life, though it was an unwritten law to not

question about life on an Undergroundling's former life. He had been asking

her questions about her parents. And what new television programs were on

the television. Jason missed television. She had also been interrogated

about who had wished her away and what their reason for doing it was if she

knew. And though none would admit it now that their leader was here, many

had been curious. And the memories that the little girl invoked of "home"

made many of the children depressed, and some, that did feel that someone,

somewhere out there still loved them, home sick.

When Becky (the little girl) saw her older sister she leapt to her

feet. She cried out "Emily!" She ran to her sister's open arms.

To: .

Subject: [labyfic] Changes (Part 6b of 10)

From:

Date: Sun, 30 Jul 2000 23:43:56 EDT

Marcus smiled to himself as he folded his arms and leaned against

a tree. "Everyone, these two are Emily and Becky, they are going to be

joining us."

A loud cry of joy, an echoing cheer rang up from the crowd of

children. They're team was larger. They would surely defeat The Goblin

King! And then The Underground would be theirs! They were not wanted at

home and so they would claim that world to be theirs!

"Oh, but we can't stay=E2=80=A6" Said Emily. Her small sister clung

closely to her, now sucking on her thumb. "We have to go home."

There was a united gasp and then silence from The Undergroundling

children. No one had ever contradicted Marcus before about staying with the

troop!

The children fell silent. They knew that it was impossible for

anyone to leave The Underground unless they were to solve The Labyrinth and

then confront The Goblin King, himself, one on one, and then it would be his

magick that would take you home. This was clearly impossible, especially

since the only one of them that even knew his way through The Labyrinth was

Marcus.

"Emily, you haven't got a choice." Marcus said bluntly. "None of

us even know how to get you 'home'. Only Jareth can do that and I doubt he

would. We've done the best we can for you, in leading you out of The

Labyrinth and rescuing your sister. It would only be fair if you help us."

Marcus laughed, it sounded like an ironic laugh. "We're all-" he gestured

around the camp "-trapped here. Or haven't you noticed?"

Emily frowned. She did not wish to spend the rest of her life in

The Underground, with a pack of savage children, running from The Goblin

King. But she did not see much else of a choice. And she knew that she and

her sister could not run and hide from Jareth forever in the forest alone.

And they seemed civilized enough. Marcus was not like some insane, murderous

wild-child from the novel Lord of the flies.

He was more like a perverse combination of Peter Pan and Robin Hood

in Gothic clothing.

"We can't stay here forever." She shook her head. Tears were welling

in her eyes. "We just can't."

"You don't have a choice." Marcus repeated.

Reluctantly Emily finally agreed to stay with Marcus and his

followers. Becky cried for a little while when she realized that she was not

going to go home after all but she did not cry as much as she had when she

had been in the possession of The Goblin King.

Marcus instructed Sally and a another girl named Angela to

construct a home for Emily and her sister. The children for the most part

slept in crude tree houses, tents made from quilts and sheets stolen from The

Goblin City, and caves, in the winters for shelter they would migrate

themselves in to the underground passages of The Labyrinth.

Using a stolen, large, thin white sheet from The Goblin City they

draped this over a low canopy of tree branches and allowed it to settle like

a crude tent, pinning sides at an angle to the ground with large stones.

The leaves and pebbles were cleared out, and a bed was made of

worn, yet washed, and river beaten goblin clothes. It was a crude little

tent but it would have to do as a home for the two, new young girls.

As the tent was being constructed Emily stood by with Marcus.

"I appreciate what you are doing for my sister and I." She said. "When do

you intend to face The Goblin King?"

"Soon." Marcus said simply. "Soon."

"If=E2=80=A6" she drifted from her inquiry when she saw the harsh look

that Marcus was giving her.

"I=E2=80=A6 I mean when you win, do you think you could perhapsmake him,

or even you could send us home?"

"If that is what you wish." Marcus was clearly disgusted. "But

why would you want to go back there?"

"Well," Said Emily, matter-of-factly "our family will miss us.

And our friends. And I miss my home and my bed. And our mother must be so

worried. All of these children-" Emily gestured around "-surely there so

someone out there searching for them as well and missing them. And what

about you, Marcus?"

He did not care much for the direction that the conversation

was turning. "What about me?"

"Is there no one that misses you?"

"No." He said simply, carefully averting his eyes from her,

looking up as if with keen interest at a tree.

"No mother?"

"No."

It seemed as if the idea of having absolutely no one to

turn to was ludicrous to Emily. "No father?"

Marcus was growing agitated and quickly. "Look, I said no!

Leave me alone already!"

Before Emily even had a chance to apologize Marcus had run off

from her.

"Marcus, wait=E2=80=A6" She called.

But it was too late. The chubby little boy, Jeff, stepped over

to her. "You have to excuse him. Certain topics make him=E2=80=A6 edgy. He does

that quite a lot, actually."

"Does he really?"

"Yeah, you'd be surprised. Just don't push him the wrong way."

"Oh=E2=80=A6"

The night gradually set in. The sunlight faded away and the

darkness settled in all around the forest.

Dusk had come and night was settling a shadowy blanket over all.

As the night set in and the darkness deepened- adding depth to the

faintest shadows Marcus felt a torture, a longing, a desire. The wounds, the

emotional scars left by so many things, best to be forgotten remained

unhealed or the scars had been reopened some how. He was aching inside. And

so to try and run from these dark inner demons the boy began to run. He

began to run fast through the forest.

Marcus rushed through the woods like a bat out of Hell. He fled

as if demons were chasing him. And in a strange sense they were. But they

were not physical demons. He leapt over fallen, dead tree limbs and through

the bushes. His breath was coming shot but he did not stop. He moved likea

dear being chased by a lion. The darkness and the nocturnal creatures of The

Labyrinth did not upset him. Nothing much frightened Marcus. But if this

were true then why did he always have such trouble sleeping at night?

Marcus loved the night for fairly much the same reasons,

symbolically as he loved the winter.

Marcus loved the night. It was his favourite time of the day, or

more precisely the dusk was. He loved the multiple, subtle colours of the

sunset as the light would fade off and the golden ball would fade off in to

the distance, as melting in to the horizon, liked a melted down candle

burning out finally. The night seemed a reminder to him that there can be a

comfort in darkness. The light was harsh and made things far too apparent.

Night was the time for the dreamers. And when Marcus dreamed he was alone

but he was not lonely for a dreamer night is the only time of day. It was

when the world was finally sleeping. It was when his thoughts would begin to

stray and wander, wondering about the most peculiar and abstract ideas. And

he imagined that he was somehow, somewhere else, far away. And he was

actually happy. So he did not have any family. Well, whoever said that he

really needed one anyway? He was actually rather glad that no body was

waiting up or out there somewhere, searching for him. It would only be a

bother.

And he felt free. He felt like the very wind itself. It was a

feeling that time could never take away from him. Where did it say that he

had to live there like that? Where did it say that he could not have a real

chance? Why did he have to only take what he had been given? Why should he

have had to have had spent his whole, entire life living, breaking his back

for someone else's sake? His life had not seemed to have suited him. He

wanted his freedom. He had wanted his choice. And he had defied his

destiny. And he had broken away from his responsibility and the faulted

promises and illusions in between.

And there in the night death seemed a beautiful thing. And there

was a subtle mystery in the darkness and the mystery of the night and all the

shadows, and levels of darkened shade intrigued Marcus. He loved the poetry

of the nighttime. He marveled at how the darkness and death must come so that

there could be rebirth in the dawn. And it also reminded him of the passing

of time, how nothing ever really died but only changed. For there always

came the rebirth. Just as after a long, bitter, cold winter there would

always come the warm spring. The night was change. It meant change to him.

There was one thing that Marcus always welcomed and that would change. And

that is precisely what he intended to do in The Underground, to force a great

change. He wanted to invoke such changes that The Goblin King could not stop

them. If someone found himself in a bad situation he could always hope fora

change.

Marcus had learned early on in life that change was not always a

bad thing. There were good and bad changes, change for the better, change

for the future, change in one self. If one did not bend to change, he

reasoned, then it could very well break you. With change there always came

the choice to bend or break. And Marcus was not one to allow time to be his

master. He would never allow himself to be broken. He might have been just

a boy but he was very much so aware of the world around him and of the rules

of life though he had not lived for so very long.

And as Marcus ran through the moon drenched forest he felt that

he could lose himself in the darkness. But he also know that though it was

perfectly all right to embrace the darkness he could not allow it to touch

him for once the darkness has embraced something it never lets it go.

He came soon to a large oak tree and started punching fiercely at

the bark. He did not care to bother to notice that he was scraping and

bruising his hands. His thin skin over his knuckles pounded hard against the

hard tree. Soon his blood was on his hands but in his rage, in his mindless

aggression the blood and the bruising did not matter. With that magick of

his- that terrible magick which was a constant reminder of the truth, he

would heal soon enough=E2=80=A6

To: .

Subject: [labyfic] Changes (Part 7 of 10)

From:

Date: Sun, 30 Jul 2000 23:44:46 EDT

"Strange fascination, fascinating me,

Changes are taking the pace I'm going through" - Changes, the song, by David

Bowie

Changes

(Turn and face the stranger.)

7

Marcus was quite aware of the truth of his conception. He had

no mother, just the father=E2=80=A6

(And I think it should have been more then obvious by now who

the father of this angst ridden young man is).

Jareth had for some reason decided that he had wanted an heir.

But the child had to be perfect, in every detail, exactly like his father, a

completely perfect carbon copy. And so was the basic design in the unit

conception of Marcus.

A child born of magick, purely and not of flesh but made flesh

from the magick of his father had been created. About half of Jareth's

magick was used to create the boy, a boy unlike any other boy. The boy was

created like Venus from the foam.

He could remember it clearly as one could remember their most

traumatic events of childhood. An exact, living, breathing replica of The

Goblin King, himself, as a young boy. And he had all of Jareth's memories as

well. But with his own awareness, and free will, detached from Jareth, he

was free. And that meant that he was free to hate what he was. And he would

not, as Jareth probably would have in his situation, accept his situation.

He would not take his place as The Goblin Prince.

He remembered the thoughts that ran through his mind and the

rapid, surprisingly quick and insightful reasoning of a thirteen-year-old

boy. He knew Jareth as Jareth knew himself only from a detached angle.

And he had known that he was condemned to be The Goblin King one

day. But he did not want that and his will had not been battered down by

experience. And he would have none of that. With the magick that Marcus

possessed, and he could feel his magick, as surely as anyone else could feel

their heartbeat, and with the magick that Marcus possessed he had two

choices. He could use that magick and remain a boy forever and rebel against

Jareth and everything he stood for just for the sake of denying destiny. He

did not want his fate. He wanted to change things. And change things he

would.

Marcus had himself quite a dilemma. If he allowed himself to grow

up then he would have no choice but to find himself exactly like Jareth and

he did not want that. Even Jareth was miserable in his position. And Marcus

knew what he did not want as surely as Jareth knew what he had always

resented. And Marcus, with all of the knowledge that he inherited from his

father, would do everything in his power to be the complete contrast of what

was expected of him. He would rebel. He would deny his birthright. He

would be his own person. He would free himself from all that he was supposed

to be, and all that bound him to his father.

He would not exhaust himself from living up to anyone else's

expectations of him. He would not move the stars for anyone. He would not

place himself in a situation where he would be starved or nearly exhausted

for the sake of appeasing anyone.

Marcus would not conform to suit anyone else's ideals. He would

have his own dreams realized then live to realize the dreams of anyone else.

He would not like to make of his life what anyone else would want him to be.

He knew that if he were to surrender to the ideals of others before his own

happiness then he would surely lose himself and then he would never really

be happy at all. He would trust in his own dreams. He would trust in

himself. And he would not relive the mistakes of his creator for he knew

what pain it would cause him already. And he knew the penalties of already.

There would be no need for relived mistakes if he knew already how and why

they would and could come about.

He would not conform for anyone. By nature alone he was a

nonconformist. And before the first week was out of being the young goblin

prince in training he had run away, with a child that had been wished away,

for Marcus had something that seemed to have had withered and died within his

father. It was a small and faulted thing but the boy did possess enough of

it to act on it, and he had no idea as to how or why he could have it when it

appeared that his father had none, it was compassion. And Marcus had fled

with that wished away child to save it from becoming a goblin. And that is

how it began. Of course with his magick he made it appeaser that he had died

in his attempted escape with the wished away child.

And he had kept himself hidden well within the woods of The

Underground. He had been hidden good and well, taking children, only once

in a while when he could, until now=E2=80=A6

It was well after midnight when Marcus returned to The

Undergroundling camp. Though he was not all too certain why Marcus felt

compelled to check in on his newest guests. He would never be able to

explain just what it was that had caused him to want to check in on them but

he did just the same. Quietly he slipped in to the small white tent, which

walls, since made from a goblin sheet, were thinner perhaps then wax paper.

Emily lay lightly asleep on the floor of the small tent, her arm

protectively draped over her little sister that was snoring ever so slightly.

Marcus watched Emily's womanly chest heaving with the steady breathing of

sleep. For a moment he was confused by the sensation of lust as if he had

expected that he would be immune to the human-like follies of his father. He

had been mistaken.

He watched her with what might have been affection. There was

something about the girl that fascinated Marcus. She had shown concern for

him as he had fallen. And she had not known who he was, rebellion leader or

Goblin prince. She had only seen him as a boy falling out of the sky, like

Icarus and his melted wax wings.

And she had seemed as if she had actually cared. She had not

meant to upset him earlier in opening his old preverbal wounds. Marcus could

sense it as surely as he could sense the magick in the air. There was

something special about her.

Could he have actually been in love with her?

Emily stirred in her sleep. She could feel the presence of

someone watching her. She opened her eyes and smiled up at Marcus. She was

actually quite glad that he was there. She could sense that he was troubled

and her heart went out to him. He had saved her and her sister. It was not

his fault that she was trapped there in The Underground.

"Marcus!" She exclaimed in a loud whisper. "I'm sorry about

before."

"It's all right." He said with a feigned smile. "Would you

like to go for a walk?"

She nodded.

He lead her out and away from the camp.

On a green, grassy hill on the fringe of the territory that made

up Jareth's kingdom Marcus stood along side Emily.

It was a beautiful night there in The Underground, most definitely.

At the base of the hill was a small creek feeding in to a pond from down a

water fall, no higher then Marcus' waist. The water flowing in the creek at

the base of the hill was a beautiful turquoise blue. This fresh water fed in

to the small pond, several yards off in to the near distance.

Beyond the stirring of the water at the base of the waterfall the

water glistened like a smooth, turquoise crystal in the pond.

It was pure fresh water that sat in the pond, still as glass just beyond the

flowing creek. It's surface shone like a polished disc made out of crystal,

cut glass. It was still and it did not seem to be liquid. It seemed like

something fantastical, magick, almost. It was a deep, turquoise blue making

it seem like a tear in The Underground, peering straight through to another

atmosphere as if the planet were a thin, flat substance.

There was a cool dampness to the air there and it was comforting.

Emily and Marcus sat under the shade of a large willow tree on

the low hill, near to the shore of the flowing creek.

It was in fact really a quite lovely evening there in The

Underground. The moon was a gorgeous crystal blue. It was bright. And

everything for miles around seemed to glow with it's own luminous light. It

was really aesthetically speaking a beautiful night in fact. There was

something in the air. Marcus could almost taste it. He could feel the

magick all around him. The stars against the velvet backdrop of night were

like tiny diamonds. And Emily had to admit that it was in fact the most

beautiful thing that she had ever seen.

Everything was so very different there. That was most certainly

not the night sky of Earth. This was an Underground night. It was

fantastic. And it was the most beautiful, surreal thing that she had ever

seen.

"It's beautiful." She said. And she truly meant it. She could

find no other words for it.

"You honestly think that this is beautiful?" Marcus asked as he

looked off in to the direction that Emily was gazing. She turned and looked

at him and smiled.

She nodded. "Yes. It's wonderful and it's so peaceful right

here."

Marcus leaned close to her. His fingernails lightly stroked her

cheek. Emily shut her eyes. And Marcus kissed her.

To: .

Subject: [labyfic] Changes (Part 8 of 10)

From:

Date: Sun, 30 Jul 2000 23:45:24 EDT

"Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes,

(Turn and face the stranger)

Ch-ch-Changes,

Oh, look out you rock 'n rollers"- Changes, the song by David Bowie

Changes

(Turn and face the stranger.)

8

Marcus had made his first mistake by being seen. Perhaps his

second was in letting his guard down in allowing himself to show real emotion

and in kissing Emily.

Jareth's goblin guards had been on the search all evening for the

renegade prince and his loyal, mortal children followers. Of course the

goblins had a terribly short attention span. They knew the boy that Jareth

was after but they had long forgotten the true title of the boy and why he

was of such significance to Jareth. They also had forgotten Jareth's demand

to not harm the child.

They had been tracking through the forests all night trying to

find the young boy and his camp. Hiding in the long grass and the bushes

they waited and watched as the young boy kissed the girl. The boy easing his

right hand to her cheek, his left arm wrapping around her. The boy's left

hand rested on the small of the girl's back.

The goblins leapt out. One of the more intelligent goblins leapt on

to Emily's back and placed a dagger to her throat.

Emily gasped in panic. Her back arched. She kept as still as

she could.

Marcus held out his hand. A cool mist rose as if from the

pours of his hand. An icy gel like substance oozed between his thin fingers.

A crystal orb began to form. The substance hardened and was no longer so

cold. A perfect crystal orb rested in Marcus' hands.

The goblin on Emily's back hissed in a rasping voice "The moment you

throw that crystal I slit her throat. Our king does not want her. He's

after you."

For a long moment Marcus kept a steady eye contract with the

goblin, as if one were waiting for the other to make his move. Slowly

Marcus reached down and placed the crystal orb at his feet.

"That's a good lad." said one of the goblin's companions.

There were about a half dozen goblins in the troop, each with a

spear, or a sword, or a bow and arrow, aimed at Marcus.

The goblin made a gesture for the rest and the boy to follow.

Since the goblin was small he dangled on the back of Emily and instructed her

on where to walk.

Marcus was only complacent for a whole of fifteen seconds.

The moment the goblins were fool enough to remotely let down their guard he

made his move. The crystal orb moved far too fast for the goblin to turn and

see. It hit the goblin that dangled from Emily's back hard. And he fell,

dropping the dagger because the sudden electrical jolt was too great for him

to act to slit the girl's throat.

"Run, Emily!" Marcus cried.

"Not without you!" She cried.

"Don't worry over me! Just run!" Somewhat reluctantly Emily

turned and ran deep in to the forest. She did not go so very far, however.

She hid in a bush and watched the goblins battle Marcus.

While Marcus' back was turned to a few he kicked and punched

the others, sending heavy jolts of magick at them. One of the goblins behind

Marcus grabbed up a rather large rock. Emily shouted for Marcus to look out

but it was too late.

The rock had hit him hard over the head.

Marcus' eyes rolled in the back of his head. He moaned softly as he

fell to the ground. The fall had been completely involuntary.

A bright flash of light, from the pain, passed before Marcus'

eyes.

Marcus felt as if he were swimming in weightlessness. His head

was spinning. A heavy blackness swept over him. It was as if he were

drowning in over lapping waves of dizziness and darkness. He felt almost as

if he were drowning. Vaguely he could make out the goblin voices laughing

with malicious glee. He could vaguely feel a hand reaching under his neck

and supporting his head, a human hand. Emily was back. He wanted to cry

out- No! They'll hurt you! But he was all ready slipping deeper in to

himself. And the darkness was spreading.

Tears were in Emily's eyes. She was unable to tell of he were

dead of alive. Faintly he was breathing but was he dying? A faint trickle

of blood seeped down past Marcus' blond bangs and down his forehead. The

hot sticky blood falling on to Emily's hands as she held his head. She was

crying.

"You fool!" Came the echoing familiar cry before he appeared.

In a burst of glitter and light Jareth appeared. He looked

terribly cross. He grabbed up the goblin that had hit Marcus. The poor

devil grinned from ear to ear, believing himself to have done well, that he

was about to be rewarded by his master. Disgustedly Jareth threw him. The

goblin hit a three hard and slumped down to the ground, motionless.

Jareth stepped forward towards Emily and the unconscious form of

Marcus.

Emily gasped. She was very intimidated by Jareth. Jareth was an

extremely powerful and a magical being with a very human outward appearance.

He could change his form in to that of a common barn owl whenever he would

fancy. He had gorgeous, long, yellow blond hair that hung lightly spiked and

feathered on his head. And he did look a great deal, in features, like

Marcus. He wore eccentric garments of an odd combination of eighteenth

century Earthly fashion and something of the taste of an Earthly Glam-rock

musician's wardrobe.

He wore tight black trousers. He wore a red velvet shirt with long

sleeves. On his neck he wore on a chain; hanging from his neck on this chain

he wore his golden cicle pendent with the silver coin within it's center. It

looked something like a triangle with it's sides in-caved.

He wore leather boots and leather gloves over my slender hands.

He was in fact a very handsome creature. He looked to be about the

human age of about thirty-eight, maybe thirty nine years old. He was fairly

tall and thin with a feline like grace about him. He stood about the height

of five foot, ten inches tall. He had peculiar yet very alluring, slightly

mismatched eyes. His eyes were blue, but strangely mismatched in that his

left pupil is just slightly larger then the other.

Emily, by some somewhat maternal instinct stepped between Marcus and

Jareth as Jareth stepped forward. By some forced bravery she managed to say

"I won't let you hurt him!"

There was something strange in Jareth's eyes. It was an emotion she

had never seen before from The Goblin King. And it looked like something

surreal, to see him with a look of what might have been love, or compassion.

"Get out of my way!" Jareth hissed. "I have no intention of

hurting him." In a somewhat sharp tone Jareth said "He is my son!"

Emily gasped. She had suspected something like that but she had

said nothing. And to hear it out loud that these two were in fact father and

son shocked her. To suspect something is one thing, to hear it said out loud

and confessed is another thing entirely.

Without a word Emily obeyed him and stepped aside. For some

reason or another she believed Jareth when he said that he did not wish to

hurt him.

Jareth kneeled down beside Marcus, and carefully scooped him up in

to his arms. He looked around the area. Dawn was fast approaching and there

was no sign of Marcus' followers.

To: .

Subject: [labyfic] Changes (Part 9 of 10)

From:

Date: Sun, 30 Jul 2000 23:46:02 EDT

"Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes

(Turn and face the stranger)

Ch-ch-Changes" - Changes the song by David Bowie

Changes

(Turn and face the stranger)

9

He knew where he was before he even opened his eyes.

He lay in a bed in a room in the castle beyond The Goblin City.

He sat up with a jolt intent on making yet another escape from there

as fast as he could and opened his eyes. That was a terrible mistake. A

wave of dizziness took him and his head fell back on to the pillows.

Jareth stood over him. Marcus looked up at him coldly as if he were

a prisoner of war just brought to be interrogated by the enemy general.

"You can't keep me here." Marcus said in a voice that sounded a bit

too weak to be his own. He did not like the sound of his own voice, it was

weak, trembled, faint, tired and strained. And the tone of his statement

caused his words to lose the meaning that he had intended for them to have.

"I know." Jareth said quietly.

"You can't!" Marcus argued, his voice regaining it's true

resonance. "You have no power over me!"

"I am your father." Jareth said simply.

"That could easily be debated." Marcus said coldly.

"Marcus, I want you to please listen to me."

Marcus was distracted and stubborn as ever. "Emily! Where's

Emily."

"She's here, in the next room over. I asked her for some

privacy when you started to come around."

"You asked?" Marcus raised an eyebrow "Or did you demand it?"

"What does that matter? I want to talk to you. You're my

son!"

"Fine. I'm listening."

"I want you to come back. You still don't understand your

powers or what lies a head for you."

"'I' have no idea! 'I' have no idea?!?" Marcus laughed an

ironic and bitter laugh. "I do not think that YOU understand, 'Father'!" He

practically had spat the word. "YOU cursed me, cursed me before I even knew

it! I haven't any choice with my life. If I grow up I become just like you

and I won't have it! I won't! You are miserable! I won't stand for your

burdens! I don't want or deserve them!"

Jareth winced as if he had just been struck hard.

"You don't=E2=80=A6 you don't have to be just like me."

Marcus blinked his eyes, not really believing what he was hearing.

"I gave you your form, my form, as I was as a boy true enough. But

your will, your spirit, your mind and soul are your own! And all along you

have been making your own choices. You chose to rebel. We are a great deal

a like and you keep taking the actions that I should have taken as a boy.

You rebelled against your position. And I was glad that you had. You resent

me. And I understand that. I resented my father too. Do you think that I

had been given a choice to be here?" Jareth gestured around himself. "It

does not have to be Hell, Marcus. I have made far too many mistakes in my

life but I don't want you to be one of them. You are not one of them."

"I want things to change." Marcus said suddenly. "I don't like

the ordered chaos here."

"Ordered chaos is Hell." Jareth said. "Chaotic order is nature."

"Then let's have a chaotic order then. But there must be a change."

"You're the prince. Come back to your station, Marcus. Please.

I won't force you. I know that is not the way to go about things with you,

you'd just fee again. I know that I would. You have the authority to make

the changes that you want. Just please, please don't run." It seemed that

Jareth was pleading.

Marcus cocked his head slightly and looked in to Jareth's eyes.

"Just what do you want?"

Jareth's mouth opened to speak but the words were catching in his

throat. He had never been exceptionally good at expressing his true feelings

to anyone. But then the words came. They were quiet, barely audible but

Marcus heard them. "I want to be your father."

To: .

Subject: [labyfic] Changes (Part 10 of 10)

From:

Date: Sun, 30 Jul 2000 23:46:44 EDT

"Pretty soon you're gonna get a little older,

Time may change me

But I can't trace time,

I said that time may change me

But I can't trace time."- Changes the song by David Bowie

Changes

(Turn and face the stranger)

10

The young prince stepped down the winding, stone staircase. He

was the prince though he did not dress like one. He wore black trousers,

tight but not as tight as his father's. He wore a draping leather jacket and

a pair of sun glasses. Around his neck in plain sight he wore his pendent,

the little silver cicle with the golden coin within it's center.

He smiled to the court, his court that he had created from his

lost children. At first they had had been horrified and felt betrayed when

they had learned that their leader was The Goblin Prince but that had changed

quickly enough when they realized that Marcus' revolution in a sense had been

a success.

The children who were wished away Jareth no longer turned in to

goblins to appears his son. The children could not be returned home unless

those who had wished them away could solve The Labyrinth within thirteen

hours otherwise they remained and were made in to Undergroundling/

Labyrinthians, true citizens of The Underground.

The arrangement seemed fairly amicable. Having a child of his own

now Jareth also seemed unappeased by the idea of transforming a child in to a

goblin.

The Goblin Prince stepped over to Emily. "You know, you can go home

now if you like."

Emily shook her head. "I have changed my mind. Send Becky home

but I want to stay here with you."

Emily placed her hands in Marcus'.

"Are you certain?" Emily nodded.

Marcus leaned forward and kissed her again.

Jareth smiled to himself.

The reluctant prince had returned. Everything seemed a little bit more

organized. There were no more rebels hiding out in the forest. And now it

appeared that with a future king there now also stood a future queen.

And that night a barn owl and one just slightly smaller then the

first flew out under the crystal blue moon, a father and his son flying

together.

The End.


End file.
